Tarique Rahman’s return to Bangladesh after 17 years in exile is essentially a stress test for a country struggling to rediscover the meaning of democratic choice. When he stepped onto Bangladeshi soil on December 25, removing his shoes and touching the ground, the gesture was rich with symbolism but the moment carried consequences far beyond ceremony.
Bangladesh today stands at a political crossroads, and Rahman’s reappearance has abruptly narrowed the distance between uncertainty and confrontation.The Bangladesh Rahman left in 2008 was already deeply polarized. The Bangladesh he has returned to is more brittle still.
Sheikh Hasina’s sudden fall after years of increasingly authoritarian rule, followed by her flight into exile in Delhi, has left behind a hollowed-out political system. An interim administration under Muhammad Yunus is attempting to steady the ship, but the social contract has frayed.
Institutions are weak, public trust is thin, and street power has once again begun to compete with formal authority. In that vacuum, Rahman’s return has electrified his Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) and unsettled the establishment.
For millions of supporters of the BNP, Rahman represents something rare in recent years: the possibility of genuine political alternation. For more than a decade and a half, Bangladeshi elections were exercises in inevitability. The Awami League’s dominance, reinforced by repression and administrative control, squeezed the opposition into irrelevance.
Rahman’s presence changes that equation. It gives the BNP a face, a focal point, and—crucially—a claim to legitimacy that cannot be easily dismissed.
Yet Rahman’s return also reopens unresolved questions about power and accountability. He is no outsider. As the son of former Prime Minister Khaleda Zia and President Ziaur Rahman and the political heir to a dynastic legacy, he embodies the continuity of elite rule as much as its challenge.
During the BNP’s last tenure, Rahman was widely viewed as the center of informal authority, a figure operating through networks rather than institutions. Allegations of corruption and abuse of power continue to trail him, whether fairly or not, and for many Bangladeshis, his name evokes not only resistance to Hasina’s rule but also memories of governance by patronage.
This duality defines the stakes of his return. Rahman is simultaneously a symbol of democratic reopening and a reminder of why Bangladesh’s democracy has struggled to mature. His recent rhetoric suggests he understands this tension. His speeches since returning have been conspicuously restrained, emphasizing national unity, minority protection and the restoration of law and order.
Gone, at least for now, is the confrontational language that once defined street politics. Instead, he has positioned himself as a reconciler, appealing to voters exhausted by cycles of vengeance and exclusion.
If Rahman is elected, his likely vision will be shaped as much by necessity as by ideology. The BNP he leads cannot govern as it once did. Bangladesh’s economy is more globally exposed, its civil society more vigilant, and its youth more impatient with closed politics.
Any Rahman-led government would be under immediate pressure to restore institutional credibility—free courts, a neutral bureaucracy, a stable and supportive armed forces and an election system that does not predetermine outcomes. Whether he has both the will and the capacity to do so remains an open question, but without such reforms, his mandate would quickly erode.
Economically, Rahman is expected to pursue pragmatic continuity rather than radical departure. Export-led growth, foreign investment, and macroeconomic stability will remain priorities, if only because the alternatives are too costly.
The sharper test will be governance: whether his administration can curb rent-seeking, discipline party loyalists and resist the temptation to rule through informal channels. Bangladesh’s political history offers little comfort on that front, but history does not preordain failure.
Foreign policy, particularly relations with India, adds another layer of complexity to Rahman’s return. New Delhi has long preferred predictability in Dhaka and found it in Sheikh Hasina, whose cooperation on security and regional connectivity aligned closely with Indian interests.
The BNP, by contrast, has often been viewed with suspicion in India, associated—fairly or unfairly—with nationalist rhetoric and strategic ambiguity. Rahman’s return has therefore been greeted across the border with cautious scrutiny rather than enthusiasm.
Yet the regional context has changed. India today faces a more volatile neighborhood and a more assertive China. Stability in Bangladesh matters more than partisan comfort. Rahman appears aware of this reality. His recent statements avoid antagonism and emphasize sovereignty without hostility, signaling a desire for balanced relations rather than alignment through dependency.
A BNP government under Rahman would likely seek to recalibrate ties with India—less deferential, perhaps, but not confrontational—while maintaining cooperation on trade, transit, and security.
For India, the question is not whether Rahman is an ideal partner, but whether Bangladesh can return to a system where leadership changes through credible elections rather than upheaval. From that perspective, Rahman’s legitimacy—if earned through a fair vote—may ultimately matter more than his lineage or past associations.
A stable, pluralistic Bangladesh is in India’s interest, even if it complicates old assumptions. The deeper significance of Rahman’s homecoming also lies in what it reveals about Bangladesh’s political moment. This is not a simple transfer of power from one dynasty to another.
It is a reckoning with the costs of prolonged authoritarianism and the risks inherent in reopening democratic competition. Rahman’s return has restored uncertainty to Bangladeshi politics—and uncertainty, after years of managed outcomes, is itself a democratic development.
Whether that uncertainty leads to renewal or relapse will depend on choices yet to be made. Rahman can use this moment to redefine leadership, constrain his own power, and help rebuild institutions stronger than any individual. Or he can fall back on the habits of the past, confirming the fears of his critics and squandering the opportunity his return has created.
Bangladesh has seen too many political comebacks that promised transformation and delivered disappointment. Rahman’s return is different only because the country has so little margin left for error.
What happens next will determine not just his legacy, but whether Bangladesh can finally move beyond politics defined by exile, revenge, and monopoly—and toward something resembling durable democratic choice.
Abu Jakir is a journalist based in Dhaka. Rezaul Karim Rony is the editor of Joban magazine
